


this gentleness

by Saraste



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: 30 Days of June Fic, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Nightmares, Smut, They're both a little broken but it's okay when they're broken together, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7159334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo is the big spoon to Thorin's little spoon, all the better to remind himself when the nightmares come that Thorin is, really, alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this gentleness

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my 30 Days of June Fics challenge, 10/30. 
> 
> ... I just realized that this is my first actual bagginshield smutfic. (That isn't drabble length.) WOW.

When they sleep, Bilbo has a habit of sleeping curled behind Thorin, hand laid over Thorin's bare, furred chest, palm against his heart.

 

Thorin had grumbled at the arrangement at first, for should _he not be_ the one getting to curl around his smaller-framed hobbit, but when Bilbo had explained, he had relented, understanding and offering his dearest comfort in kisses and a life-affirming embrace.

 

And he had woken enough times with a sleep-addled Bilbo crying in his arms after a nightmare in which help had not come quick enough, where Thorin gave his life for his Mountain in battle, not after a long peaceful reign with Bilbo at his side. Where Bilbo never got to tell Thorin how much he loved him. Where Thorin never braided Bilbo into wedlock.

 

Now, when Bilbo startles from a nightmare, he already has his palm over Thorin's heart, can take instant comfort from it, calm himself enough that the panic isn't a vice around his heart any longer.

 

And Thorin, ever a light sleeper, usually wakes when Bilbo does, even when he does not cry out, which he not always doesn't. As he does now. He turns and gathers Bilbo in his arms, enveloping him in their unwavering protection, their strength seeming to be enough against the ghosts of nighttime what-if's.

 

'I'm alive.' Thorin tells his hobbit, every time, repeating the words until Bilbo stops shaking.'I'm alive,' he tells him now.

 

'You almost weren't,' Bilbo says , as he usually does, and he's shaking in Thorin's embrace, still remembering his nightmare, still....

 

Thorin presses a kiss to his sweaty curls, lets his hands touch as they will, reminding himself, too, that they are both here, that they both made it. 'But I am. _Alive_.'

 

And they kiss, then, cannot fight it, don't want to fight it. Eventually, their hands shake less, the touches become more firm, if gentle and light, more sure. They whisper endearments between kisses, Khuzdul and Westron, and cannot get enough of kissing. Of each other.

 

They may not see each other in the dark but touch and sound are all they need.

 

Thorin offers his body to Bilbo, and not for the first time, and not the last. Bilbo is sure in preparing him, using more oil that Thorin thinks should be needed but he's unable to tell Bilbo otherwise, to tell him that he doesn't need to be so gentle, so very careful. Except that Bilbo _does_. What they do is an affirmation, a celebration of life and Bilbo needs this gentleness.

 

Bilbo kisses him when he's slicked and ready, when Thorin is almost too keyed up, but will wait, will always wait for Bilbo, _has always waited_.

 

'Thorin,' Bilbo gasps against his lips as he fills Thorin, slowly and gently, so perfectly.

 

They both groan at the feeling, of filling and being filled, of being in this place, in this bed, in each others arms, safe and whole, connected. Making love. For this is what this is. It is not a quick furtive fuck when the passion is just too much, nor a lazy half-asleep fumble after a long day or at the beginning of a new morn, it's slow sweet lovemaking, at least in the beginning. It may end up as being hard and fast, in the end, but, for now, it's slow and languid, with soft lingering kisses and whispers of adoration.

 

Thorin groans all he can't put into Westron, what he can't put into anything but Khuzdul, against Bilbo's eager lips, the sweaty skin of his neck, punctuating his phrases with kisses. He arches his back when Bilbo hits deep, so perfectly deep, even with their differing sizes Bilbo still fills him to perfection, fits him. Fills him.

 

'Bilbo...'

 

Thorin wants to be able to say more than just 'I'm alive.' More than just _'I love you, adore you, cherish you, you are my One and everything.'_ For he feels like it isn't enough, seems lacking. His body aches for more, for harder, for deeper, for rougher, for the gentleness feels like too much, Bilbo's gentle movements in him too precious. He feels like crying as Bilbo kisses his closed eye-lids, as he murmurs benediction against his heated brow, as he stills in Thorin to kiss him like he's drowning, taking his time, keeping them on the edge.

 

'I can't...' Thorin groans, after an eternity of kisses, an eternity of belonging, of clinging, of Bilbo's unmoving body penetrating him but not moving, of the unbearable slick sweetness of it all.

 

Bilbo complies, slow at first but then harder, quicker, deeper, like he knows that's what Thorin needs. Gentleness is not... Thorin doesn't understand gentleness with Bilbo yet, not completely, not when it's Bilbo in him... when it's Thorin in Bilbo his hobbit has to yank at his braids to get a good pounding. And he can take it. He might look delicate compared to Thorin's warrior's build, but his body is always pliant and accommodating around Thorin, never strangling him, being too tight. And Bilbo never cries of pain.

 

'You're alive...' Bilbo chants under his breath as his thrusts begin to stutter, to falter, and his grip of Thorin's legs is slackening.

 

Thorin pushes him down, settles carefully in his lap, never letting his full weight down to crush Bilbo, and rides him to a slow sweet finish, kissing Bilbo as he wrenches their pleasure from them, gasping as Bilbo fills him, moments later, finding his own peak. They kiss slowly, then, for a few heart beats until Thorin lifts and draws Bilbo flush against his chest as he lies down back onto the pillows.

 

Bilbo's fingers end up tangled in Thorin's hair and he looks down at him, even though he can't see Thorin in the nigh darkness, not even when there are edges of light in the upper windows of their bed chamber, indicative of an approaching dawn.

 

'I love you, Thorin,' Bilbo says, hand unerringly finding Thorin's marriage braids and reassuring himself through touch, fingering at the familiar braids and the beads.

 

Thorin returns the gesture, after he's kissed Bilbo soundly. He murmurs his adoration in Khuzdul, knowing full well that Bilbo knows what he means, having heard the phrases enough even when he cannot, as a non-Dwarf, be taught Khuzdul.

 

'Will you sleep some more?' Thorin asks, always and forever worried that his small love get enough sleep, the nightmares aren't as frequent as they once were, but frequent enough, and Bilbo doesn't always go back to sleep after, not even if they've found their pleasure. Yet if he doesn't sleep after, he usually ends up curled up, napping in a big armchair in Thorin's office later in the day.

 

Bilbo turns his head to the slivers of morning just peeking in through the mullioned windows. 'It's what, two hours until proper sunrise?'

 

'About so, yes.'

 

'I think I'll try.'

 

And so they clean each other up and curl onto the bed like before, with Bilbo's hand over Thorin's heart, waiting for sleep, hoping for no more nightmares, thinking of the tomorrows which are still theirs.

 

 

 


End file.
